03x17 - Ten Chairs

[bunniefuu]

♪ Someone once told me th♪ On the other side. r ♪

♪ Well, I paid a visit

♪ While it's possible I missed it ♪

♪ It seemed different yet exactly the same ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

♪Till further notice♪

♪ Till further notice

♪I'm in between♪

♪ I'm in between

♪From where I'm standing♪

♪ From where I'm standing

♪ My grass is green.

♪ Someone once told me the grass is much greener ♪

♪ On the other side.

[struggling]

[yells]

[clattering]

[grunts and groans]

Good save...

CARL:Ahem...

Have you seen a crescent wrench?

What are you building, a newMayflower?

Sadly no.

Dave needs help attaching the gas valve

to his new pressure fryer.

Remember this Thanksgiving platter?

Nope.

It's only been in Dad's family

since, like, he was a kid.

Well, then he should have taken it with him

when he left.

DAVE: Darn! Darn!

Oh, boy, I'm needed in surgery.

If you'll excuse me.

Allow me.

I hope I'm not keeping you.

Ah, Hoods can go solo for a few minutes.

I appreciate your help, Carl.

I mean, this does go against your current principles.

Like plugging in the electric chair

when you don't support capital punishment.

But, for you, Dave...

I don't know what it is.

I can trim a herniated disk,

perform laproscopic surgery with a smile,

but, uh, I'm just not good with mechanical things.

Ooh, that's hot.

Hand that to me, would you?

Sure thing.

I'm still kind of in shock

that you invited the Bishops to Thanksgiving.

I thought you'd be happy to have Dodie over.

I am, it's just that,

you know... Mrs. Bishop.

That poor woman's arm is broken.

And to be perfectly honest, I'm not convinced

Carl didn't have a part to play in her fall.

Still, it's pretty nice of you.

The more the merrier--

that's what the holidays are all about.

Mom, would it be okay

if I invited someone else to Thanksgiving?

I don't see why not.

What's one more person?

Thanks.

Are you going to tell me who?

Can it be a surprise?

Sure, kiddo-- but let's hope

they're not on the vegan wagon

with your brother and Hoodsey.

I only bought enough soy nuggets

for the two of them.

CARL: I assure you that turkey butchery

is not what Squanto had in mind

when he encouraged the very first Thanksgiving!

Maybe it's the creeping loin cloth talking,

but I think this whole liberating animal stuff

is getting kind of old!

Hoods, this kind of work

is good for cleansing our karma.

Well, my karma would be a lot happier

if I got to wearyourcostume.

My back's too chunky to be exposed like this.

Ah, you make a more convincing Wampanoag than I.

Maybe we need to strip this operation down

to its bare essentials.

No way, Carl.

I'm practically naked already.

Hold your feathers, Squanto, and follow me.

GINGER: Sometimes around the holidays

we're compelled to do things that don't always make sense.

We get caught up in the emotional trappings

of the holiday

and want everything to be like the holidays you see on TV--

the kind with the happy kids and happy moms, happy dads.

[dog barking]

Ginger!

Hey, Dad.

Hi, Ben.

What are you doing here?

I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow?

Tomorrow, oh, I'm going to order in some Chinese food

and watch the game or something.

Why don't you come

to Thanksgiving at Mom's?

It would be so nice to have you.

Geez, wow...

Your mother and Carl are okay with this?

Sure, that's what the holidays are all about--

you know, the more the merrier.

Ging, I don't know what to say.

Just say you'll come.

I'd love to.

Great! Dinner's at :.

[imitating Lois]: And that doesn't mean : or :.

I don't want my cranberry sauce getting runny.

You... sound just like her, Dad.

See you tomorrow.

You want to buy a live turkey?

That is correct, sir.

And a side of butternut squash.

And who's going to, uh,

prepare this turkey for cooking?

We are not going to "prepare" the bird,

we're going to let it live.

Yeah, that bird's going to have

a life free of man's oppression.

Those poor Pilgrims barely survived

the first year at Plymouth Colony.

They weren't themselves when the targeted

the original turkey.

A better Pilgrim would have made soy loaf or something.

Alas, it is up to us to change the world,

even if we have to do it

one turkey at a time.

Then have I got the bird for you.

What seemed like a good idea earlier today

suddenly seems kind of stupid.

But something in me wants my dad to be here,

to be a bigger part of my life.

Until my dad made fun of my mom,

I didn't even think about how having him here

might be kind of weird.

What do I do now?

I can't tell my mom.

What if she says I have to uninvite him?

I mean, Carl and I are his only family.

Why shouldn't he be able to spend it with us?

[Carl and Hoodsey struggling]

Or maybe a better question is:

Why would he want to spend it with us in the first place?

[screeching]

[squawks]

[rattling]

[starts]

Oh...

Mrs. Dave...

Please, call me "Mom."

I, uh, didn't hear you come in.

The door was open, I hope you don't mind.

I wanted to get my bird going.

But I already have a turkey ready to go.

Dave's using our new pressure fryer.

It's all the rage.

I don't trust fads.

Okay, but you do know it's only : AM--

we're not eating for another ten hours.

I like to cook my bird slowly--

makes it more flavorful.

Speaking of flavor...

your pumpkin pie could use more nutmeg.

LOIS: You... stuck your finger in all my pies?

Had to test for test.

Your mincemeat is to die for.

[groans]

I'd better make some coffee.

[yells]

I think there's somethingwrong with that turkey.

The poor guy's under a lot of stress.

This is a big day for turkeys.

[band music playing in distance]

[turkey squawking]

Hey, I think I hear the parade on TV.

Come on, before I miss one of the floats

getting torn on a street light or something.

We owe it to the little guy

to make sure he's fed.

We owe it to ourselves not to miss

a potential Thanksgiving parade disaster.

I have hand mirrors bigger than that TV.

I could move your chair closer.

Don't let me be a bother.

No problem.

Too close-- I can feel the radiation

oozing out of the picture tube.

Here you go Mrs... uh, Mom.

Everything looks great, kiddo.

So who did you invite to the dinner?

Is it the new boyfriend, perchance?

Uh, no, it's just a friend.

He doesn't have anywhere else to go for Thanksgiving.

Doesn't your friend have a family of his own?

Not really.

Oh, too bad.

Was it trichinosis?

Um... yeah.

Well, your friend is welcome here.

Lois, you shouldn't let

just anyone come to your dinner.

That's how you attract transients.

I have some potatoes to smash-- I mean, mash.

[yelling]

Hey, hey, hey!

All right, big boy,

you're going to feel a little bit of sting.

There we go.

That wasn't too bad, was it?

MRS. DAVE: Lois, what did you put in this coffee?

Darn, that rat poison was supposed to be undetectable.

Lois...

Joke, Dave.

It's hazelnut flavoring!

Oh... how fancy.

[doorbell rings]

GINGER: The Bishops are here.

Oh, good.

Now your mother will have

another crone to play with.

[greeting each other]

GINGER: Let me take your coats.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Foutley.

Please, make yourselves at home.

Oh, it's so nice of you to invite us, Lois.

I hope it wasn't too much of a bother.

Not at all, JoAnn.

The place looks lovely.

That's Ging for you.

Let me introduce you to Mrs. Dave.

[volume increases]

Dode, help me with the coats.

Sure.

Ten chairs?

I thought Macie was going

to her Aunt Muriel's.

She is.

Then who else is coming?

It's a surprise.

Oh, no, please tell me

that Carl didn't invite

that weird, little bird girl.

No, I invited my Dad.

Your dad is coming...here?

Does your mother know?

No, but it's not that big a deal...

is it?

Uh, kind of.

I mean, this is your mom's

first Thanksgiving with Dr. Dave.

And you've invited her ex-husband.

Okay, so it's a terrible idea--

I just figured that out too late.

I should take my mother home--

she doesn't feel well in situations like this.

Maybe we can try again at Easter?

Dodie,please?

I'm going to need your moral support.

[doorbell rings]

Oh, I'll get it!

I just love a parade.

Tuba players are such dorks.

Language, Robert Joseph.

It smells delicious, Lois!

That's my turkey you're smelling.

Lois is pressure-frying her own.

Really?

Did you hear that, David?

Two turkeys.

Who'd like a canapé?

I'm not too late am I?

Dad, hi.

Come on in.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

Jonas... hello.

What a surprise.

Ginger said you didn't mind.

Of course not.

Uh, please come in.

Everybody, this is my dad, Jonas.

This is Mrs. Bishop, Mr. Bishop and Mrs. Dave.

Hi, nice to meet you.

Jonas, nice to meet you.

I've never heard of ex-husbands crashing

their ex-wives' Thanksgiving dinners.

Iinvited him, Mrs. Dave.

Never heard of children inviting ex-husbands

to Thanksgiving either.

We're... we're just one big happy family that way.

Who'd like a cup of eggnog?

Who doesn't love eggnog?

Hey, guys.

Hey, Mr. Foutley.

Uh...Dad,I think that pressure fryer

should be just about ready to go.

Shall we?

Oh... oh, me? Uh...

[clears throat]

Yeah, sure, sure.

Yeah, let's do it.

Come on, let's go.

Ha! Kids...

Carl...

what do you think you're doing

by calling Dave "Dad" in front of Dad?

No offense, Dave.

Oh, none taken.

What are you doing by inviting him here?

He's our dad, Carl.

Dave's a lot more of a dad than him.

That is not true.

No offense again, Dave.

Oh, none taken... again.

Oh, yeah?

Name one time

when you could count on good, old Jonas.

Well, that's your opinion.

I want Dad to be here.

Fine, just don't expect me to want him here, too.

Oh...

Ginge...

I'm not going to make a big deal out of this,

but you could have given me a heads-up here.

I'm sorry, Mom.

You know, I'm not keen on surprises.

I was afraid to tell you in case you said no

and asked me to uninvite him.

Well, I probably would have.

But I thought you said

that's what the holidays were all about--

"The more, the merrier."

I did, and I meant it.

But, Ginge, sometimes there are

more feelings to consider

than just your own.

And what do you do for a living, Jonas?

I'm a bit of a... Jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none.

Oh, well, uh...

that must keep things interesting.

At Christmastime,

Mr. Foutley gets hired as Santa Claus at the mall.

Well, isn't that sweet?

Here's some fresh eggnog.

[softly]: I wish I could say it was spiked.

You're not the only one.

Carl, I, uh... I'm touched

that you feel, uh... this way about me...

really.

Dave, it's an honor to have you

as a member of the family.

[buzzer ringing]

I think she's ready,

but if you don't mind, I'd rather not watch.

[rotor squeaking; turkey sizzling]

[steam whistles]

Lois, this pretzel salad is divine.

Thank you, JoAnn.

You can hardly tell there's pretzels in here.

So, Dad, did you notice the platter?

Hey, that was my mom's.

That platter belonged to an ex-mother-in-law?

Who also happens to be my grandmother.

Next, you're going to tell me

that gravy boat was a wedding gift

from your first marriage.

Mom, I've had just about enough...

DAVE: Save yourselves!

She's going to blow!

[all screaming; glass shattering]

[hissing]

[panting]

Wow!

Is everyone all right?

Yeah, we're okay.

Dave, our turkey.

Well, aren't we glad

I took the time to roast a proper bird?

[grunting]

JoANN: Uh... delicious... turkey...

really.

Isn't it, David, hmm?

Oh... yes.

Uh... water?

What do you mean, you don't eat turkey?

[angrily]: We don't eat it, okay?

Tone...

Robert Joseph.

Tone.

Uh... with all due respect, Mrs. Dave--

or may I call you Grandma?

Please don't.

Very well.

Hoodsey and I feel very strongly

that, as humans, we can no longer inflict pain

and suffering upon animals

for our unnecessary consumption.

Suit yourself.

It'll probably stunt your growth.

Who'd like more peas?

Oh, I'd love some, thank you, Ginger.

The marshmallows in the yams

are a nice touch, Mrs. Foutley.

Too bad they're stale.

Hmm, oh. Mmm.

You know, Mrs. Dave,

you should really think

about going into the turkey jerky business.

Ha! Good thing you blew up

the pressure fryer there, Dave.

He didn't blow it up!

It was a faulty gas valve.

Carl, don't.

It was just a joke, Carl.

Well, it isn't very funny, Jonas.

Grandma spent a lot of time

cooking this turkey.

This is scrumptious turkey cooked the old-fashioned way.

But I guess you don't get too many home-cooked dinners

living your bachelor life.

Okay, Kemosabe, knock it off.

[all gasp]

Hold on!

You made me give up meat so we could cleanse our karma,

and now here you go chomping on some dry bird?

Dry?

You know, your turkey is as tender as can be... honest.

Let me at it.

[turkey squawking]

What was that?

Uh... it's nothing.

If you'll excuse us,

Hoodsey and I need to check on something.

You two better not be up to something.

Sorry I flipped out back there,

but giving up meat's been pretty tough, Carl.

Ginger should never have invited him.

Invited who?

My father.

It's not fair to Dave.

But I don't think Dave cares that much.

He seems more upset about the turkey.

Well, I don't want him here.

[gasps]

[all screaming]

[squawking]

Someone get the carving Kn*fe.

No!

We can't hurt him!

[squawking]

Stay calm.

He's practically domesticated.

It's okay, boy, it's okay.

[grunts]

Carl, this has you written all over it.

How did I know coming here for dinner would turn out like this?

Hey, I was saving you

from having to cook your own Thanksgiving dinner

with only one good arm.

Yeah, well, good thinking since I need my one good arm

to fend off a demented bird.

[squawking]

[screams]

[cast ripping]

I think he drew blood!

This is why weeatturkeys at Thanksgiving.

JONAS: Mother!

He bit off my ear!

Only half.

This gash-- it's lethal.

[squawking]

Hey!

Dad, careful.

Jonas, get that thing out of here.

[squawking]

Right, let's get you to the ER, Mother.

Dodie, grab our coats.

I've suddenly lost my appetite.

[squawking and wrestling continue]

I'm starting to see white light and a tunnel!

[all bidding "good-bye"]

Bye, Ginger.

Call me.

[turkey squawking]

Hey!

Hold on, you.

Would it be okay?

Fine with me, but you're going to need bigger nails.

Hope there isn't anything too valuable in there.

Nope.

I remember when we first built this for Monster.

Yep.

He was a good dog.

Poor guy.

Nice going, Carl.

Excuse me.

You had to bring a turkey here

and completely ruin everything.

Iruined everything?

I'm not the one who invited Jonas to be here

and make everyone else feel totally uncomfortable.

We're his family, Carl.

He belongs here.

If he belonged here with us,

he wouldn't have left in the first place.

Uh... Carl,

I have to admit, your father is quite the hero here today.

For wrestling a turkey?

No, no, for retrieving part of Mother's ear.

You know, he's a good man, Carl.

You should give him a chance.

Dave, you cannot leave me alone in the car with your mother.

It's a boundary issue.

Right-- sorry, Lois.

I better get this ear on ice, stat.

When I get home, we're going to discuss

this twisted desire of yours

to harbor wild animals.

Is that really your mother's ear?

No, it's a piece of yam.

By the way, the marshmallows-- nice touch.

MRS. DAVE: They were stale.

That should hold him.

Maybe later we can set him free by Grossman's Lake.

Look, Carl, you can be mad at me.

I don't blame you.

I can't say I wouldn't be the same if I were you.

But try to understand that sometimes in life...

you realize that you've made a wrong decision

and you try to undo them.

I thought that the hurt of divorce would be less

than the hurt of two people staying married

who didn't get along.

I doubt there's anything I can do

to make it up to you, Carl,

but, if there was, I'd do it in a second.

Well, I guess I should head off.

Thanks for the invite, honey.

Sorry this was such a disaster, Dad.

Hey, it was a lot more entertaining

than football and a pu pu platter from Ming's.

Um, pretty cool that you found the piece of Mrs. Dave's ear.

How about we go give her a hand with the dishes?

You wash, I'll dry?

Sure, so long as I get to wear rubber gloves.

Hood says I have a future as a hand model.

Can't say I disagree.

GINGER: Sometimes we want something so bad,

we practically write the script on how it should go,

even if we know better.

There's no such thing as the perfect family

or the perfect turkey or the perfect gravy.

There are always lumps.

But why do lumps have to be bad?

Maybe instead of trying so hard to create the ideal holiday,

we should embrace the not-so-perfect,

because sometimes it's the imperfections

that make the holiday memories you really cherish.

I think there's something wrongwith that turkey.